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  • Subject: Halo Fanfic: The End of a War (Chapter 19 Delayed? Details pg. 93)
Subject: Halo Fanfic: The End of a War (Chapter 19 Delayed? Details pg. 93)
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Bungie Crossword Solver.
UNSCDF Supreme Commander

★★★★★
In terms of FPS Games:
PC > Xbox360, PC > PS3.

Posted By:Bromster
You should consider Sticky'ing Mr_Clark's Story. His story is equal, if not greater to Sir Brilliant's.


[Edited on 7/18/2005]

  • 07.18.2005 7:36 AM PDT
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Why not just quote me? Lol.

  • 07.18.2005 8:13 AM PDT
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Bungie Crossword Solver.
UNSCDF Supreme Commander

★★★★★
In terms of FPS Games:
PC > Xbox360, PC > PS3.

oh right :D

  • 07.18.2005 8:15 AM PDT
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Well Mr. C's back, from vacation. Well so much for the good plot line of Mr. Clark being kidnapped. And Where's the CHAPTER?????

[Edited on 7/18/2005]

  • 07.18.2005 9:56 AM PDT
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wow, anticipation is growing for Mr. Clark's next chapter, and as our thoughts and dreams go wild with what he has in store for us, we wonder how and why Mr Clark has decided to feed us with these awesome tales of glory and hardship, and what gave him the righteous power to boggle us with his words...

wow what a rant.

I wonder what will happen with the Chief on the Elite homeworld. Im not sure they will be easily swayed, but maybe the arbiter's presence will show them otherwise. And i cant wait until we find out what happens to Truth and the Forerunner. Keep it coming Mr. Clark!

  • 07.18.2005 10:45 AM PDT

Kero 'Zenuree
Officer aboard the Reverence-class cruiser Intangible
Dn'end Legion

Posted by: JTisaBeEg
wow, anticipation is growing for Mr. Clark's next chapter, and as our thoughts and dreams go wild with what he has in store for us, we wonder how and why Mr Clark has decided to feed us with these awesome tales of glory and hardship, and what gave him the righteous power to boggle us with his words...

wow what a rant.

I wonder what will happen with the Chief on the Elite homeworld. Im not sure they will be easily swayed, but maybe the arbiter's presence will show them otherwise. And i cant wait until we find out what happens to Truth and the Forerunner. Keep it coming Mr. Clark!


Yeah, what he said.

  • 07.18.2005 1:30 PM PDT
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Ditto

  • 07.18.2005 1:33 PM PDT
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come on MRc you said it'd be posted in a few hours, and that was like this morining, and its now 9.30 at night real time!
just checked fanfiction .net and its not their either. hes obviously gone on another holiday!
Nah only joking you take your time, i don't want any foul-ups in my story thank you!

[Edited on 7/18/2005]

  • 07.18.2005 1:39 PM PDT
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everybody loves my ranting. if i dont see a chapter soon (im naturally impatient) then im gonna go on another one.

I did think it was strange how Sgt Johnson started to grow a flood arm, i was totally taken by surprise. no doubt, an element to make the flood more sinister. lol. I wonder if johnson will have continuous occurances such as that in the coming chapters

  • 07.18.2005 2:29 PM PDT

"It's like a cake filled with pies." -Pete "Mango" Parsons

Seventh Column Contests

im really excited about seeing the Sarg back in action. I want to see what has happened to him since the flood arm incident. Is he gona grow another 1 of the flood arm or is he gona be fine and regenerate his arm back. We will def see what happened on the next chapter. Comming near u in couple of hrs. Only have to wait for couple of more hrs and we will see what will happen.

  • 07.18.2005 3:11 PM PDT
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Bungie Crossword Solver.
UNSCDF Supreme Commander

★★★★★
In terms of FPS Games:
PC > Xbox360, PC > PS3.

aye, the arm ripping off thing freaked me out

btw keep up the gw!

  • 07.18.2005 3:38 PM PDT

He watches every Hodgetwin video they put up...on ALL their channels. He calls them the Hodge Triplets, and considers himself the 3rd triplet. He's started talking and acting like them now. Every other line out of his mouth "Thaaas some BULLLLLL**** maaayne" or "Gotta make dem gainzzzz". He calls his biceps "gains". When he eats post-workout, he talks to his biceps, "Don't worry gains, I'm feeding you. Daddys gonna feed you, gainz *kisses biceps*".

Oh gosh... It's almost 8:00 eastern time... No chapter... I've been wanting it so badly.... WAHHHHHHH!!!!

LAST MINUTE STATEMENT: The Arbiter and MC will discover that there are two Arks, the Earth and the Elite's homeworld.

  • 07.18.2005 4:53 PM PDT
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AHHHH!Need chapter!NEED FIX!

  • 07.18.2005 4:57 PM PDT
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clark went on vacation again didnt he.......i neeeeeeeeed to know whats going on with the cheif.

[Edited on 7/18/2005]

  • 07.18.2005 9:03 PM PDT

"It's like a cake filled with pies." -Pete "Mango" Parsons

Seventh Column Contests

wait until the morning b4 u start ur riot. If he doesnt post the chapter now he will in the morning. If he doesnt post it in the morning then i am sure he has a good reason.

  • 07.18.2005 9:34 PM PDT
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If you would like to read this chapter unedited and formatted would do well to follow this link over to fanfiction.net and read it there. Leave a review too please!

Uhh... Terribly sorry everyone. I ended up being much busier than expected, which cut into any kind of sleeping time I had planned. So around five o'clock I sort of fell asleep at my desk, which has resulted in a very sore neck.

Anyways, here's Chapter 19. Its a little over 20 pages, not as big as Chapter 18, but no slouch either.

Author’s Notes: After the somewhat lengthy break I took in-between Chapters 17 and 18, I decided to get down to work on this chapter as soon as possible. Obviously checking the dates in between the last two chapters will show you how well that plan worked out…

Originally I wanted to get this story finished by the end of the summer, but it looks like that plans not exactly going to work. I’m waddling along though, going as fast as I can. I’ve got a bunch more garbage on my plate and it absorbs a lot of time. Vacations and what-not, along with work.

I really enjoyed everyone’s reactions last chapter after my cruel heartless killing off of Will, Linda, and Fred. I was pretty worried I’d get castrated over it, with people yelling from the rooftops that I didn’t portray the scenario properly. Basically what I really wanted to get across was, this whole war against the Flood has very little to do with honor and heroics. Its about survival. I knew early on I couldn’t give the Spartans a final grand finale. A battle of epic proportions where they go down fighting like warriors. Having them injured and immobile while the Flood ravaged their bodies…that was just about perfect. Probably not in anyone else’s eyes though…

Plenty more action on Earth this chapter, but we’re also getting a tiny look into what’s been going on with the Master Chief. Not a big look, because they will be the focus of the next few chapters. I just really want to give everyone a refresher as to their situation. We won’t be seeing Earth for awhile after this chapter, so keep any complaints about the lack of Chiefness to a minimum please…^_^

For those that forgot about what happened the last time we saw the Chief, the Arbiter just finished off the last of the Brute fleet awaiting ‘Eranumee’s ship, the Attrition. ‘Eranumee (the Elite that had escaped from Danrun, the Covenant home world, in the midst of the epic battle going on there to try and rally the Sangheili on the Sangheili home world, Silone) emerged from Slip Space, with nothing but a lot of wreckage and Honor Without Mercy waiting for him.

Also, wow, this story has surpassed the 100,000 word mark.


The End of a War

Chapter 19

Abandoning Home…


The skies let loose their fury over the continent of Africa. Thunderous clouds drenched the Earth with rain, while lightning leapt through the air, crackling with power. Down below as the landscape sped by, the figures of crumpled bodies were visible. Cities smoldered, burning from battles waged, and the screams of the dying were lost in a torrent of flames and rain.

Sergeant Johnson watched listlessly out the back of the Pelican, his eyes lifeless as he sat immobile. The winds prevented the rain from entering the Pelican bay, but Johnson’s face showed signs of moisture nonetheless.

The pain that washed through his body as a medic attempted to clean and dress the wound at his right shoulder failed to register with his mind. He was miles away, reliving the events that had occurred no more than an hour ago.

I shoulda fought Captain Morallis harder against bringing those two squads. They didn’t need to die, especially not because of me. What the hell good am I, if I can’t even protect a few Marines?

Johnson had stumbled through the wreckage of the Covenant cruiser until he finally reached the entrance he had used previously. From there he radioed for a Pelican to pick him up, and had waited, fighting the urge to feint from the blood loss until the ship appeared. Once aboard he didn’t succumb to the overwhelming urge to do so, and at the administrations of the medic inside, as well as the Flood regenerative abilities he had managed to stay conscious.

The Spartans are dead and Jan too probably. I’ve failed everyone.

Dimly Johnson became aware that the medic was speaking to him.

“-not sure how you healed so fast, but it looks like the bleeding has stopped. There was no serious hemorrhaging it appears, and even the clavicle bone has managed to reconstruct itself, albeit with a far more limited size,” the medic said as he sat back beside Johnson, inhaling deeply on the cigarette cradled between his fingers. “I don’t know what you’ve been eating these days Sergeant, but I’d appreciate it if you let me in on your secret.”

Grunting even as he recalled the memory of cutting off his own limb, Johnson turned back to stare at the passing scenery.

The two Marine companies are going to need my help once they get to the center of New Mombasa, but I need to know for sure what happened to Jan. I owe it to the Chief, but I also owe it to her. She was willing to put her ass on the line, and if she managed to survive I’ll tear that -blam!- hospital down to find her, one arm and all.

“So how exactly did you lose that arm Sergeant?” the medic asked, extending the pack of Golden Clip smokes out towards Johnson.

“It’s a long story,” Johnson replied, his arm gesturing towards the combat knife sheathed along his lower calf. After a moment of indecision he took an offered cigarette from the pack. The medic reached into his flak jacket and removed an ancient zippo lighter, and huddled close to Johnson as he lit the cigarette.

“No -blam!-? You cut it off yourself?” the medic questioned, surprised at Johnson’s admission.

Moving the cigarette to his mouth, Johnson used his arm to remove the knife from the sheath strapped to his leg and flipped it around, offering the knife handle-first to the medic.

The medic let out a low whistle as he lightly ran his finger along the serrated edge of the knife. He looked curiously at the amber blood stains that were mixed with the red tint of human blood.

“This sonofa-blam!- looks like it could cut through steel,” the medic admitted, scratching off some of the blood stains with his finger. “What’s with all this greenish -blam!-? Were you cutting up some Flood with it first?”

Johnson fought against the shudder that rippled through his body at the memory that filled his senses. The foreign feeling of having the blood of the Flood pulse through his arm, and begin to race up his body. He had torn the mutated limb free at the last moment, before the blood could spread throughout the rest of his insides…before he became one of those freaks permanently.

“Something like that,” Johnson replied softly, killing the cigarette in one deep pull and tossing it out the back of the Pelican.

Absently he noted that the land had tapered off, and they were now flying over a large body of water. That meant they were over the Indian Ocean, and Australia was only a stones throw away.

-------------------------------

She couldn’t take it anymore. The blood had continued to flow, spilling around her, soaking the material of her pants, and the arms of the flak jacket she wore. The sickening green liquid released a putrid odor, and along with the rotting flesh of the Spartan’s corpses, the urge to vomit was strong.

Crawling away from the crumpled forms of the fallen Flood forms, Jan absently noted that the gunfire on the rooftop had yet to cease. The remaining Marines must have been drawing the majority of the Flood’s attention, as she had yet to encounter anymore of the creatures in the last hour, after she had killed the infected Spartans. Her mind was screaming that she needed to go assist the Marines, but when her gaze fell on the pistol she had discarded on the floor, her body weakened.

Jan knew that every face she saw would belong to the twisted horrified faces of the Spartans, and every shot entering their bodies would make her relive those events over and over again. A strangled sob wracked her body and Jan finally stopped crawling as she came to rest beside a large metal cabinet.

With a grunt of effort she wrenched the door free and after clearing out several boxes of medical supplies she crawled inside. The cabinet was large enough to accommodate her even if she wished to stand, but Jan couldn’t get her limbs to cooperate. The pain that had been burning within her arms after blocking the strike from one of the infected Spartans had faded, and was replaced with a numbness that filled her entire body. All she wanted to do was hide and forget about everything that happened.

I’m a failure. I wasn’t able to help anyone. Lieutenant Barnes, the Marines, the other Spartans…all of them. They all died because of me.

I wanted to help fight this war, to make a difference.




[Edited on 7/18/2005]

  • 07.18.2005 10:17 PM PDT
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Jan chuckled bitterly.

I got my wish. I’ve doomed humanity. I killed the last hope we had of winning the war against the Covenant, against the Flood. The Master Chief is millions of light years away. He can’t save Earth, and neither can I. Everyone will die, humanity will cease to exist…and its all my fault. All because I didn’t want to be protected anymore.

Johnson was right, I should have stayed in the HighCom Facility, where I belong. I’m not a soldier. I’ve let everyone down. Dad, the Master Chief, humanity, my friends…


As Jan’s thoughts continued down the dark path of depression, she slowly began to collapse to the side of the cabinet, her body lifeless as the last of her willpower faded.

If the other Spartans hadn’t been wounded from before, I wouldn’t have been able to kill them with just a stupid pistol. They were weak, crippled from the fight above Earth, and I killed them.

I should have known this would happen…All I can do is be protected. That’s…that’s all I’m good for.


---------------------------------

Sydney was in ruins.

The city burned as the Pelican soared overhead, and Johnson watched it pass morosely from the open bay doors. The weather in Australia was in contrast to the storms that ravaged Africa, as the afternoon sun bared down onto the land, feeding the flames with it’s heat.

Over his radio Johnson could hear scattered reports from the few remaining Marines in the city. The Flood were still fighting, and the Marines were in danger of being overrun, completely losing the last line of defense from within the city. His lone hand clenched tightly, and he had to fight the urge to lash out. Mindless rage wouldn’t do any good here; he needed to be calm and collected, to prepare himself for what he would find at the hospital. Johnson had called the chatter he had left Jan, but it had never been answered, a good indication to what he expected.

Switching over to the local frequency, Johnson spoke into the Pelican’s network.

“When we reach the hospital, I want you to haul ass out of there, but make sure you stay within shouting distance,” Johnson informed the pilot. “I don’t want to find myself high and dry when it comes time to leave.”

“Roger that Sergeant,” the Pilot responded, and as Sydney disappeared beneath them, he picked up speed and roared down towards the residential district that sat between the capital city of Australia, and the small hospital that was their destination.

The medic sitting beside Johnson looked at him curiously.

“You sure it’s a good idea to do this alone Sergeant?” he asked, and earned a cross look from the Marine. “I mean, you’ve only got one good arm, and the only weapons we have are a couple SMG’s along with that knife you’re carrying. Not exactly the best setup to have when running into a Flood-infested building, right? Why not call up a couple squads of Marines that can help you clear the place out?”

“I’ll be fine on my own. I’ve faced these bastards more times than most people see their own mother, I know how to fight them,” Johnson said, his bravado sounding weak to his own ears.

The medic prepared a rebuttal, but was cut off as the pilot’s voice came over the Pelican’s communications network.

“Hospitals dead ahead, looks like there’s some fighting on the rooftop.”

Frowning slightly Johnson got to his feet and stepped carefully into the cockpit, peering out the front of the ship. The pilot had decreased the Pelican’s speed as they approached the hospital, and they were about a hundred yards from the building when Johnson gazed through. He saw what tipped the pilot off. Muzzle flashes and grenade detonations flashed across the rooftop.

“Get close enough so I can talk with whoever’s still alive,” Johnson ordered. The Pelican picked up speed and came to a stop, hovering just high enough over the hospital to ensure the pilot could have enough maneuverability in case they came under fire.

Johnson quickly cycled through the different frequencies until he found the closed net the Marines were using.

“This is Sergeant Johnson, I request immediate status of your team and assessment on enemy strength,” Johnson said over the net. The Marines had undoubtedly saw the Pelican come in and the reply was near instantaneous.

“Sergeant? This is Second Lieutenant Daniel Steele; we currently have seventeen men remaining who can still fight. There are over twenty wounded, and the rest are all dead. Am I to presume that you are the medi-vac we requested almost an hour ago?” came a voice over the radio.

“I am acting under orders of Naval Captain Miranda Keyes, sir. I was dispatched to recover a female civilian who had been fighting with your contingent. However if you can keep the Flood at bay for a few moments we can land and you can load up the wounded.”

“Understood,” Lieutenant Steele, replied over the com channel. Johnson returned to the back of the Pelican and stood beside the medic, who was leaning out the open bay to gaze down at the fighting carrying on below.

“It looks like a lot of people got killed,” the medic said. Johnson turned and looked at him as the medic continued. “Those big Flood forms, they’re formed when humans are taken over by the Flood right? There’s so many of them.”

Johnson looked down at the raging battle. The bodies littered around the rooftop, and on the surrounding pavement around the hospital, were numerous.

“Yeah, looks like it.”

“Y’know, I was thinking, back when I saw the devastation in New Mombasa after the Covenant fled,” the medic said. “I wondered what exactly we humans had done. Why do we deserve this? What sort of atrocities could mankind have carried out that we would earn this kind of punishment?”

The medic chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head in amazement.

“Even after so many days I couldn’t find any answers. There are a lot of people out there that like to say we brought this on ourselves, saying we got too proud, thinking that we were the most advanced race in existence. We moved off into new galaxies and inhabited different planets, not ever thinking that a different form of life could be out there. Then out of nowhere, the Covenant find us, and just like that, we’re no longer the highest link on the food chain anymore. There’s this big bad enemy that’s so much more advanced than us, that the best thing we can do is run, and even then its only a matter of time before they find us.”

Johnson stared at the medic, unsure of where he was going with his speech.

“I don’t think this is some kind of divine punishment for becoming too obsessed with our own achievements,” the medic explained. “We were only following our own nature. Expanding and growing, advancing into new realms and realities. That’s what we’re designed to do. God hasn’t abandoned us; he was never with us to begin with. If God created humankind, than he must have also created the Covenant too. Even the Flood must have been something God put into the universe. Why? If God had chosen mankind, then why would we be faced with so much adversity? What are we supposed to do against these kinds of enemies? They won’t ever stop until we’re gone, wiped off the face of existence forever.”

Johnson wasn’t a religious man; he had never resigned himself into believing there was a higher power governing his fate, pushing him towards his ultimate goal and destiny. He believed human beings were ruled by what they had inside, what they aspired to be.

And while I may not know anything about why the Covenant were put into the Universe, I do know one thing.

“The Flood,” Johnson started, memories of a vicious battle playing across his mind, reminiscent of the one he had fought only a few hours ago. “The Flood weren’t created by God. They were made by a different kind of power, one so advanced; the only thing left for them to do was to give themselves eternal life.”

Through that blazing act of ignorance they masterminded their own demise, cultivating an enemy so powerful that their dominance was turned against them. The Forerunner are the architects of their own extinction, and humanity’s as well it would seem.

“I don’t pretend to have any answers,” Johnson said, resting his hand upon the medic’s shoulder, “But I do know one thing. Right now there’s only one thing for mankind to care about. Survival. This is the final stepping stone towards our extinction, if we lose this final battle we’re finished. Everything humanities ever accomplished, there won’t be anything left.”

“All you have to do is decide what your role is going to be. Are you going to become just one more faceless victim? Or will you stand up and fight, making sure that even if mankind doesn’t survive in physical form, it most certainly will in the hearts of our conquerors. We’ve got to give them a fight they’ll remember for all eternity.”

The medic stared back at Johnson in confusion for a long moment, before a smile graced his face and laughter erupted from his mouth.

  • 07.18.2005 10:18 PM PDT
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“Sergeant, you are amazing,” he laughed. Johnson felt a smile brim at the corners of his mouth when he felt the Pelican begin to descend. Removing his hand from the medic’s shoulder he bent down and retrieved the pair of SMG’s, shouldering them alongside his lone arm.

“Help get the wounded loaded up and then stay with the Pelican,” Johnson ordered as the rooftop quickly rose up to meet them. He leapt out of the bay and landed on the granite rooftop, turning to look at the medic one last time.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Without another word Johnson took off, running across the strewn Flood-infected bodies towards the small Marine encampment near the center of the rooftop.

“Sergeant Johnson?” a bedraggled looking officer asked as Johnson neared. Johnson flipped him a casual salute and then looked at the gathered Marines. No sign of Jan.

“Sir, can you tell me where you last saw the civilian girl?” Johnson asked Lieutenant Steele. The Marine officer looked puzzled for a moment before remembering.

“She was in the staircase with us, when we were heading up to the roof after we got overrun. When we got settled down she was nowhere to be found so I presumed she didn’t make it. I’m sorry that’s all I know,” Lieutenant Steele said, shrugging his shoulders.

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” Johnson sighed and made his way towards the rooftop entrance that would lead down into the rest of the hospital.

“What about some reinforcements? We’re getting slaughtered here. My men are running low on ammunition and we’re exhausted,” Steele protested, and Johnson felt a sour look grace his face at the officer’s words.

“The Flood have nearly taken Sydney, the residential area in between here will be in danger should that happen. All across the planet Flood controlled ships have touched down, and the Marines have been deployed. There are no reinforcements Lieutenant, everything that can be deployed, has,” Johnson said simply, and then turned back around.

That an officer like that is in charge of protecting those other Marines. If only Lieutenant Barnes had kept himself alive. Showing weakness and desperation in front of the grunts is foolish. Any more officers like him and we may wind up being wiped out completely.

The staircase was empty, and Johnson began a quick decent. There was no time for subtlety, he needed to get in, find Jan; either her corpse or her living body, and get back to the rooftop.

Because of such an officer’s ignorance, it looks like I’m going to have to search floor by floor. I better start with the closest one and work my way down.

Johnson slammed the door leading into the seventh floor open and charged through, one of the SMG’s held within his left hand. The eerie silence that seemed to occupy any location the Flood inhabited filled the empty corridors of the intensive care ward. Johnson could almost feel the Flood moving around him, but they were nowhere to be seen.

At times like this with no real sense of direction, its best to follow the trails of battle.

The blood stains and shell casings were littered around the floor leading towards the room Johnson surmised to be where the injured Spartans were being held. The large amount of blood was puzzling, as there seemed to be no bodies nearby. The room was empty, aside from some more blood stains.

Flood secretion was something Johnson had seen many times, so he recognized the trail of disgusting filth that led away from the room and down a random hallway. There were three trails, which meant more than likely three infected Flood forms had went in that direction.

Following the trail, Johnson entered through a couple different wards before he came to the doors of a medical lab. They had been smashed through, as if something had been slammed against them repeatedly until the stress could not be taken any longer.

There must have been something the Flood wanted very badly inside.

Stepping carefully Johnson entered the lab, and stopped short. The three mangled bodies that were crumpled on the floor of the lab seemed almost to stare back at him. Swallowing hard Johnson moved closer, and saw that the bodies showed signs of having been wrapped in bandages.

Not exactly the most conclusive bit of evidence that they’re the Spartans, but these things are bigger than any Flood form I’ve ever seen. The trail of blood and other secretions must have come from the Flood possessing such damaged bodies.

So if the Spartans are here, then where’s Jan?


Johnson searched the floor and surrounding walls, but found no sign of human blood, which meant Jan had escaped the encounter with the Spartans unscathed. The handgun she had used to kill the Spartans lay beside the disposable chatter he had given her. Johnson stood puzzled near the end of the lab, trying to figure out exactly what must have occurred inside the room.

The sound of crunching glass behind him caught his attention though, and Johnson spun around, his SMG trained on the doorway ready to unload into the Flood form that must have just entered.

“I know I disobeyed an order Sergeant, but I don’t think an execution is in order here,” the medic from the Pelican said as he stepped into the medical lab.

“What the hell are you doing here? I told you to help with the wounded,” Johnson said angrily.

“It looks like the Flood have backed off for now, and since there really isn’t anything I can do for the guys that are injured that hasn’t already been done, I got the other Marines to load them up while I took a look around the hospital for anymore wounded,” the medic replied nonchalantly.

“Idiot,” Johnson growled. “Its morons like you that get killed while so young. Don’t take unnecessary risks you bastard.”

The medic smirked at Johnson and laughed.

“This coming from the man who gave me a speech about moving forward without hesitation,” he chuckled. “Well Sergeant I am taking your earlier advice instead of this latest batch, so with all due respect I shall say kindly that the Sergeant can go screw himself.”

Johnson flinched and prepared another retort but stopped when he heard a muted shuffle from behind. Turning hesitantly he looked over to where the sound originated from, and saw a large metal cabinet.

The medic questioned Johnson but the Marine Sergeant waved him, silently motioning for him to remain silent. Creeping towards the cabinet, Johnson kept the SMG in front of him, making sure that he made no noise with each footstep.

Steeling himself, Johnson placed one hand on the handle that would open the cabinet, and after taking a deep breath he wrenched the door open, preparing to spray the inside with bullets. His finger didn’t stray from the trigger guard however, after he saw what was inside.

Janissary James stared back at him in shock, her face red and puffy, obviously from having shed many tears in the last while. Her huddled form and frightened look made her appear as if she was no more than a child, and Johnson smiled down at her, before turning around back to the medic.

“Looks like we can get out of here a lot faster than…!” Johnson cut himself off when he saw the infected Flood form standing behind the medic, who was staring back at Johnson, puzzled over the Sergeant’s abrupt change in demeanor.

“Get down!” Johnson cried as he charged across the medical lab to grab the pistol that lay on the floor. Using the SMG was too risky, the uncontrolled line of fire would ensure that the medic would be hit, and Johnson wasn’t willing to take the risk.

The medic turned in shock, just in time to see the infected Flood form swing its tentacle arm in a wide arc, slamming him off to the side, where he flew through the room before finally crashing into the wall heavily.

“-blam!-!” Johnson cursed as he picked up the handgun and turned, firing the remaining seven shots in the magazine into the chest of the creature. The rounds stalled the Flood form for a moment, but it resumed its charge towards the fallen medic. Swearing violently Sergeant Johnson tossed the handgun aside as he moved forward, towards the infected human. His hand slipped down and wrenched the knife free of the sheath strapped to his leg.

The infected Flood form finally noticed his presence and stopped its charge towards the medic and turned to face Johnson. As the distance closed, the infected Flood form swung wildly at him.

Johnson ducked underneath the blow, twisting his body into a sharp pivot and used his momentum to bury the knife into the chest of the infected host body. The creature shuddered uncontrollably as Johnson ripped through the weakened flesh, ensuring he would rip the small infectious form inside the chest cavity to pieces. With a cry he rammed his shoulder into the Flood form, sending it skidding across the floor where it finally came to a stop, motionless.

“You alright?” Johnson asked, gazing down at the medic. With a groan the medic raised a hand slowly to his head.

“Those bastards know how to pack a punch,” he said with a wry grin. His body shuddered as a coughing fit wracked him. The medic coughed roughly one last time and his hand came away from his mouth covered in blood.

  • 07.18.2005 10:18 PM PDT
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Johnson looked at the blood in concern as he heard the familiar screams of the Flood begin to fill the room.

“Alright we’ve got to go, now!” Johnson shouted, unceremoniously hoisting the medic to his feet, ignoring the grunt of pain the injured soldier emitted. Sergeant Johnson turned back to the cabinet that Jan had crawled out of.

“W-what’s going on?” Jan asked shakily.

“Two stupid soldiers decided to come rescue you,” Johnson said as he looped one of the medic’s arms around his shoulder. “Now get your ass over here and help me get him back to the roof.”

Without a word Jan woozily climbed to her feet and after a few uncertain steps she came to a stop beside the medic, and took his remaining arm and looped it over hers.

“Your going to have to carry most of the weight Jan, I’ll need my arm in case more Flood happen to come looking for us,” Johnson explained as he uncomfortably gripped one of the sub-machine guns in his hand, careful to keep the medic’s arm from slipping off from around his neck.

Together Jan and Sergeant Johnson half dragged the injured medic down the twisting hallways of the hospital ward. They had to stop every few minutes so Johnson could fire at the sporadic infectious forms that were crawling along the walls.

“Why did you come back for me?” Jan asked after a long period of silence. Johnson responded without taking his eyes from the door that would take them into the staircase leading towards the roof.

“Can we talk about this after we ain’t got these parasite bastards crawling around us?” Johnson asked annoyed. Jan looked away, a hurt look passing over her face that Johnson noticed.

“-blam!-,” he cursed. “Look, I never thought the Flood would actually head for the hospital. I figured you’d be able to wait this whole thing out in a Goddamn hospital without having to worry about fighting. I -blam!- up, and I had to make things right. If it meant pulling your corpse out of this -blam!--hole I woulda done it without question.”

Jan tried to respond, but the medic began another coughing fit as the door before them suddenly exploded outwards towards them. Infectious forms spilled out from the staircase, followed by several infected Flood hosts.

“-blam!-!” Johnson cursed as the unhinged door cracked against his waist, propelling him backwards. Jan kept a grip on the medic as Johnson tumbled backwards to the ground, the SMG he held clattered down the length of the hallway. Fighting against the pain he quickly pushed himself up, in time to see the horde of infectious forms swarm over Jan and the medic.

“Johnson!” Jan screamed out before she disappeared from view.

Driven by the raw fear and rage that flooded his body, Johnson charged into the massive pile of creatures, the knife he had used earlier in his lone hand, ripping the infectious forms apart.

“Jan!” Johnson cried, hoping to hear a response. None came as one of the Flood combat forms crashed into Johnson, trying to wrestle him to the ground. Dropping down Johnson used the knife in an upward motion that severed the arm holding onto him, and then proceeded to kick the feet out from underneath the combat form.

“Sonofa-blam!-!” Johnson raged, forgetting any attempts at self-preservation and throwing himself headfirst into the pile of infectious forms, crushing many of them underneath his body. Haphazardly Johnson grasped for Jan, his arm cupping underneath her breasts and dragging her under his body.

Acting quickly Johnson scanned her neck for any signs of an entry wound by one of the infectious forms. With the quick look Johnson didn‘t see anything indicating she had been infected, so with a quick jerk he pulled himself and Jan upwards. Jan had apparently fainted from the shock of her impending death, forcing Johnson to carry her.

“I’m sorry,” Sergeant Johnson said softly as he began to pull Jan away. With only one arm available, he wouldn’t be able to risk trying to take the medic as well. Mercifully the medic had fallen into unconsciousness, letting him escape his painful death at the hands of the Flood.

Again…again another soldier dies because of me…

Johnson could feel the remaining Flood a hairsbreadth away from him, and he quickly dragged Jan to where the SMG he had been carrying landed. Reaching down Johnson scooped the weapon up and turned, emptying the magazine without any real care of what he was hitting. He just needed to get the closest ones off his back for a minute.

-blam!-, with the staircase blocked, the only way out is in the elevator, and I’m not dumb enough to try that.

In an attempt to buy himself some time to think, Johnson quickly dragged Jan into one of the patient rooms, slamming the door behind him. Wasting no time he set Jan against the far wall and grabbed as much random debris he could handle with one arm, setting it up against the door.

“-blam!-,” Johnson cursed softly as the Flood began to throw themselves against the door leading into the room. They were safe for now, but the Flood would break that door down in a minute. With no weapons, Johnson could only hold them off for so long before they would eventually be overrun by their superior numbers.

Observing the room urgently for anything useful, Johnson’s eyes settled on the far window located at the other end of the room. Striding purposely towards it, Sergeant Johnson peered out and down below.

Seven floors…I doubt even I’d be able to survive that, let alone Jan. Damnit, there has to be something we can do. Maybe call the Marines on the rooftop?

Johnson listened carefully, but with the repeated thrashings and screams of the Flood on the other side of the door, he couldn’t tell if the Marines were still fighting on the rooftop.

Its not like they’d be able to get here in time anyways.

That thought gave him an idea though, and he quickly accessed his radio, flipping through the channels until he found the one used for communicating with airborne assistance.

“This is Sergeant Johnson. I’m currently pinned down on the seventh floor of the hospital. Looks like I’ll need immediate dust-off, but we’re gonna have to make this pick-up a little unorthodox.”

“Sir?” the pilot’s voice questioned over the com channel.

“I’ve got no clue which side of the building I’m on, but I’ll give you a signal in a minute. Keep an eye out for it,” Johnson ordered and then walked over to where the hospital bed lay. He quickly ripped the mattresses away, and began to pull at the frame. With only one arm however, it would be almost impossible to throw the object at the window with enough force to break it. He was going to need some help.

Turning Johnson walked over to Jan’s spot against the wall and bent down.

“Sorry girl, we don’t have time for pleasantries.”

Drawing his hand back Johnson backhanded Jan roughly across the face, nearly knocking the girl against the ground.

“-blam!-!” Jan cursed loudly, seemingly recovered from her unconscious state. “What the hell was that for?”

“A fine way to treat the guy who’s still trying to save your ass,” Johnson ground out. “Get your ass off the floor and come help me toss this that bed frame through the window.”

While Jan seemed confused over what Johnson was planning, she picked up on the sound of the Flood slamming against the flimsy metal door that separated them. Quickly getting to her feet she moved to the side of the bed frame and helped tear it free from the metal fasteners on the ground. It weighed easily close to a couple hundred pounds, and carrying it proved quite difficult.

Jan was positioned at the side, keeping her body positioned slightly underneath the bed frame, which they had managed to lift nearly three feet off the ground. Johnson stood at the opposite side, facing Jan. Despite only having one arm he had managed to lift it as high as Jan.

“Let’s not bother with any kind of countdown,” Jan managed to grind out between her clenched jaw. Johnson had seen the sickening bruises that had formed on Jan’s forearms, and knew that as hard as it was to lift the frame with a single arm, Jan must have been feeling it even worse.

“Agreed,” Johnson wheezed, and simultaneously they charged at the window. With only several feet between the window and them, they hadn’t gained much momentum when the bed frame struck the window, but the sheer weight of the object was enough to break through the hardened glass. The bed frame sailed down the seven stories before finally slamming into the pavement down below.

“I got your signal Sergeant,” the pilot informed Johnson over the com channel. “Moving into place as we speak. You’ll need to make a little bit of a leap however, my birds not exactly made for these kinds of pick ups.”

“Understood,” Johnson said, turning to Jan. “We’re going to have to jump onto the Pelican when its in place. Think you can make it?”

“To get out of this place Sergeant, I’d sprout wings and fly away,” Jan said bitterly. Johnson noticed her depressed demeanor, but before he could say anything the Flood assault against the door finally gained purchase. A large tear down the center of the door had appeared, the metal pushed inward towards them. It wasn’t large enough for anything to slip through, but it did give both Sergeant Johnson and Jan a good view at what was about to come in.

  • 07.18.2005 10:19 PM PDT
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“If you happen to be going slow on our account Corporal,” Johnson said over the com channel to the pilot of the Pelican, “Then I assure you the faster you go, the happier we will be.”

“Keep your pants on Sergeant, if you want me to misjudge this than I’ll hurry, but then you’ll wind up smears on the pavement,” the pilot responded irritably.

Johnson sighed as the com channel clicked off.

“When the Pelicans in position, your going first,” Johnson said. Jan looked at him and within her gaze he could see she was about to protest, but instead she simply nodded and looked away.

The hospital room began to tremble slightly as the sounds of the Pelican’s engines soon dwarfed the Flood’s assault. As the pilot began to maneuver the open bay of the Pelican into position, the door leading into the room finally gave way. The Flood had managed to use the small tear in the door to rip it free from the hinges that held it in place. Infectious forms began to crawl over the random debris Johnson had positioned against the door to halt their progress.

“Get ready to jump!” Johnson shouted at Jan as he bent down and picked up a twisted metal bar that had been torn free from the bed frame when they had removed it from the fasteners located on the ground. As the infectious forms jumped towards him, heading for his neck, Johnson swung, batting them away and tearing them apart in mid-air.

The Pelican finally came to a slow hover outside the window and Jan looked back at Johnson uncertainly.

“Just -blam!- jump!” Johnson snarled angrily as the last of the debris before the door was pushed aside and the combat forms entered. Out of the corner of his eye Sergeant Johnson saw Jan take a running charge at the window. She slipped on some of the glass that had fallen on the inside of the hospital room and she fell short, hitting the end ramp of the Pelican painfully, but managed to grasp onto a small handle used for tying down the cables used to carry Warthogs.

As Jan pulled herself up into the Pelican bay, Johnson took one final swing with the metal shrapnel and then turned, already fearing that he had let the combat forms get too close. Pumping his legs he ran towards the window, his heavy boots crunching on the glass that Jan had stumbled on. With only a few inches to spare Johnson jumped. As he cleared the broken window he felt time slow, his adrenalin spiking.

His jump had been better timed than Jan’s, and it looked like he would easily enter the back of the Pelican when something grabbed onto his foot, impeding his forward progress. Speechless Johnson felt himself begin to fall, even as he recognized that it was a tentacle’d arm that held onto his foot. His mind went blank and he prepared himself for the long fall when Jan’s outstretched hand caught onto his upper arm. The downward plunge stopped abruptly, as Johnson found himself suspended in mid-air; held in a tug of war between the Flood combat form that still resided in the hospital room, and Jan who was half inside the Pelican.

To keep herself from falling Jan had hooked her foot into the same handle located along the floor of the Pelican ramp that she had used to pull herself up on before. Both her hands were grasping Johnson’s arm as the combat form had only its one remaining arm holding onto one of Johnson’s leg.

As he twisted around Sergeant Johnson saw that it was the same combat form he had attacked earlier. The creature possessed only one arm, and the knife Johnson had used to cut the other limb off with was impaled in its mutated skull.

Surprising him, Jan moved one of her hands from Johnson’s arm, giving the combat form significant leverage to pull more of him backwards, in turn extending Jan’s body further outside of the Pelican.

Preparing to rebuke her over the foolish maneuver, Johnson saw that Jan had used her free hand to reach into the waist holster he had left in the Pelican after being picked up from New Mombasa. Her hand reappeared and in her grip she held an M6C handgun, and she quickly trained it on the combat form.

The gun fired six times, emptying half the clip before the combat form’s grip finally loosened around Johnson’s foot. Jan fell backward heavily, with Johnson banging into the ramp of the Pelican bay much in the same manner that Jan had previously. With his hand in Jan’s grip however, he was in no danger of falling and she quickly pulled him inside.

“Get us the hell out of here,” Johnson shouted to the pilot, who had been watching the scene unfold with rapt attention. The Pelican rumbled as it tore away from the hospital.

Sergeant Johnson and Jan sat back against the seats lined along the walls of the Pelican and attempted to catch their breaths. The wounded Marines that had been picked up from before were lying in varying states of unconsciousness on the floor of the Pelican.

Turning to Jan, Johnson grinned.

“Not bad for a rescue huh?”

Jan looked at him blankly for a moment before smiling back slightly as the Pelican carried them away from the hospital, the Flood, and the fighting.

--------------------------------

“Construct we shall need to establish contact with Councilor Pondomee’s ship,” the Arbiter informed Cortana as Honor Without Mercy waited several thousand miles away from the small personal craft that had emerged from Slip Space only moments before.

Cortana was silent as she worked her way into the ship’s communication network and set up a link with the Attrition.

“Go ahead, you’ll have a visual in a moment,” Cortana’s voice filled the bridge, and the main display altered. Instead of the empty wreckage of the Jiralhanae fleet, the occupants of the bridge now had a view of the cockpit inside the Attrition.

“I would speak with High Councilor Pondomee,” the Arbiter informed the Sangheili pilot over the battle net.

The pilot seemed to get his first good look at the display inside his own ship that allowed him a view of the bridge inside Honor Without Mercy.

“An Arbiter…” the pilot said in astonishment, before breaking himself from the reverie that had descended upon him. “Arbiter, Councilor Pondomee is with the rest of our forces on Danrun. He has sent I, Lan ‘Eranumee on a mission to inform our brethren of the dire straights we face.”

“So the betrayal has become complete then?” the Arbiter asked sadly. “The Prophets have ordered our extinction even upon the world we established with them?”

“Yes,” ‘Eranumee responded, his voice tight. “The Jiralhanae have led the assault against the Sangheili positions. The Lekgolo and Unggoy are fighting by our sides, but even with their help, the Jiralhanae possess the Forerunner vessels. It is only a matter of time before the defenses are destroyed.”

The Arbiter clenched his fists, even as he felt his strength begin to drain. He had hoped that word could reach the Sangheili and other excommunicated Covenant members of the betrayal on the Holy Ring, but it was not to be. The Forerunner ships were vastly superior to anything the Covenant had been capable of developing. A fleet of a hundred cruisers could be destroyed by one Forerunner craft.

“I must say Arbiter,” ’Eranumee said, his voice growing suspicious, “You are in very interesting company. Why is it that I see a Holy Oracle, and the Demon beside you?”

“There are far more changes that have occurred than simply our betrayal at the hands of the Covenant young one,” the Arbiter said. “We have no time for talk, I shall escort you to Silone, and there we shall both inform the elders of the messages we carry.”

‘Eranumee’s face still showed his suspicion, but he nodded assent to the Arbiter’s words and the display switched off.

“Bring us into the coordinates I gave you earlier Construct, and hurry,” the Arbiter ordered. In moments Honor Without Mercy began to turn and slowly headed towards the home world of the Sangheili.

“This is something we should have foreseen,” the Arbiter said, turning to gaze at the Master Chief. “Your presence will cause doubt and mistrust when we arrive. Some of the elders are old and not flexible on ancient beliefs. We shall be lucky if you are not ordered to be executed the moment they lay eyes upon us.”

With a simple shrug of his shoulders the Master Chief responded.

“While you have proven yourselves to be quite ignorant in the past,” the Spartan said, earning a hardened glare from many of the Sangheili that operated along the bridge, “I know your kind are not stupid. Think what you will about the human race, but we are offering an alliance that will help you fight against the Covenant. Fighting a two-front war would be inconceivable, even for the Covenant.”

“Let us hope you are right,” the Arbiter replied. “Hopefully with the assistance of this ‘Eranumee, we shall force the council to see the truth.”

If not, the Arbiter mused darkly, the Gods may bestow upon us a fate worse than that which the Forerunners met.

----------------------------------

The Prophets had long since overcome the problem that many other species met in regards to aging. With the genetic manipulation and mutation of their very core of existence, the Prophets had surpassed the limitations that time could put upon a single body. In doing so the Prophet race had begun to decelerate the aging process, ensuring that though time passed at the same rate, their bodies would only age at a small fraction of that speed.

  • 07.18.2005 10:20 PM PDT

"It's like a cake filled with pies." -Pete "Mango" Parsons

Seventh Column Contests

it has arrived.

  • 07.18.2005 10:20 PM PDT
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The High Prophet of Truth was birthed during the Age of Reconciliation, thousands of years prior to the Age of Reclamation. Compared to the highest Prophet however, the Grand High Prophet of Law, he was an infant. The Prophet of Law had been an experimental project by the Forerunners, shortly before the destruction on their home planet, and the activation of the Halo’s.

Despite his age, Truth felt the urge to run back into the Forerunner ship, regardless of his brittle bones. The Forerunner stood stoically, having moved significantly closer to the group of Covenant forces standing upon the sand dunes that marked the expansive desert area they had embarked upon after exiting the Forerunner ship.

Off to the right side of Truth, the Jiralhanae Captain stared at the foreign being in shock, after the Prophet of Truth had chokingly informed him that one of the Holy Forerunners stood before them, examining the group as if it were a collected group of insects.

“Exalted one,” the Jiralhanae Captain said to Truth, “How can that creature be a Forerunner? It is in the Holy Writ that the Forerunner ascended upon the Great Journey, leaving behind this universe and all who dwelt in it.”

“Such idiocies should not be uttered here,” Truth said angrily. “You will do well to tread lightly beast, if this Forerunner decides we are in the least manner a threat, it shall tear us to pieces.”

The heavy winds tore at the group, kicking up the sand they stood upon and assaulting the collected Covenant members. A few feet away from the group the Forerunner’s flowing robes billowed, exposing the long blade it held concealed within the left sleeve of it’s robes. Several of the Kig-Yar and Jiralhanae tensed at the sight and shifted uneasily.

“Don’t move!” Truth shouted at them, his voice harried with his uneasiness. The raw fear that flooded within his body disrupted any thoughts of keeping his composure and stature amongst the lower Covenant. His thoughts were kept on ensuring his survival.

The warning he shouted came to late though, and before any of the collected Covenant could detect, the Forerunner was gone. Several tense moments passed and Truth released the breath he had been holding. The Forerunner must have been surprised and disappeared while it collected itself.

Perhaps we are in luck. Should the Forerunner fail to reappear, we may finally figure out how to reactivate the ships engines and be rid of this cursed planet, and all the horrors that dwell within it. All is not lost…

The Prophet of Truth’s thoughts were interrupted as a Kig-Yar released a strangled cry as it fell, the upper half of it’s body hitting the sand. A shimmer of light was all Truth could see before two other Kig-Yar fell to the ground, their bodies dismembered in one form or another.

“Return to the ship at once!” Truth cried, even as he knew it was too late. The wind had picked up again, and their vision was impaired from the blowing winds, ensuring that they would not be able to see the Forerunner ship unless they were standing directly before it.

Regardless Truth ran, his ears picking up each cry as the other Covenant began to fall, one by one.

This is madness! The Grand Prophet of Law foresaw none of these events when he laid out the architecture of our stratagem. The Forerunner were in reclusion! Why? Why have they been awoken!?

The touch of a blade upon his neck stopped the Prophet of Truth’s maddening pace, and he froze, his eyes desperately trying to fixate on the form behind him. The lone Forerunner that had dispatched the other Covenant members stood firmly, the tip of it’s blade pressed lightly against Truth’s flesh.

“Know this, the only reason this blade has yet to pierce your flesh is because I remember your kind,” the Forerunner spoke, using the tongue of the ancients. “You would do well to answer my questions; otherwise you will join your companions.”

----------------------------------

Captain Miranda Keyes felt the beginnings of a severe headache as she marched down the empty corridor inside the Lewis Puller. Sergeant Johnson had radioed in ten minutes prior and informed her that not only was he dropping off a Pelican filled with wounded, but that he was also giving her Jan to look after as well. After Ackerson’s ship entered Slip Space the communications within the entire fleet had been disrupted, and Keyes had spent several long hours without any form of updates from a single one of her teams down on the ground.

Needless to say the stress was starting to get to her.

I can understand Admiral Hood’s reasoning in not wanting to hand this new cruiser over to a fresh corpse straight out of officer training, but why on Earth did he have to give it to me? I had enough trouble keeping track of a couple hundred crewmen aboard In Amber Clad.

The doors leading into the Medical Bay parted before her and Keyes stepped inside, quickly waving down the salutes some of the corpsmen began to give her.

“Sergeant Johnson?” Keyes asked one of the surgeons, who in turn pointed down near the end of the room. Thanking him, Miranda walked softly down to the far end of the medical bay. She stumbled upon Johnson and Jan quite quickly. Jan was having her arms examined and bandaged by one of the male corpsmen while Johnson stood off to the side, his face a mixture of concern and brooding.

“Well I certainly didn’t expect this,” Miranda admitted, startling both Jan and Johnson. The corpsmen glanced up briefly at her before resuming his work.

“Ma’am,” Johnson said, snapping a salute, and Keyes was taken aback when she saw he was forced to use his left arm seeing as how his right arm was no longer present. Looking over at Jan, she noticed the darkened bruises on the girl’s arms, and the distant gaze she possessed.

“What the hell happened?” Keyes asked. Johnson glanced wearily at Jan for a moment before sighing.

“It’s a long story ma’am, it’d be best if we went somewhere private to talk about it first.”

----------------------------------

“I see, so the Spartans are dead,” Captain Keyes said softly, leaning back in the small chair inside her private quarters. “And that another Gravemind showed up as well, that is certainly surprising.”

“Yes ma’am,” Johnson replied from his position, seated upon the edge of Keyes’ cot.

“How on Earth was it able to cause the dormant Flood DNA inside of you to take over though?” Keyes wondered aloud. “The Boren’s Syndrome should have ensured something like that to be impossible.”

Johnson was silent as Keyes thought aloud.

“Perhaps when you fought the previous Gravemind, and your arm was first severed it was able to do something to the severed limb,” Keyes pondered. “When it was reattached your body almost rejected it, and it took several Elites to hold you down so you wouldn’t hurt yourself.”

“I blacked out when the limb first began to reattach itself,” Johnson admitted.

“Well its simple conjecture on my part,” Miranda said, leaning forward. “Unfortunately as well, since the information about your compatibility with the Flood is a secret, we cannot trust any of ONI’s scientists to examine you. For now it seems like all of our questions will have to remain as such.”

Which obviously doesn’t sit well with Johnson, Miranda thought as she stared at the soldier. And why should it? I don’t think I’d take it well if I found out that without notice I might suddenly be torn apart from the insides and become one of the Flood.

Johnson’s brooding face finally got to Keyes and she got up to go comfort him when the internal com network for the ship activated and the voice of the executive officer filled the room.

“Captain Keyes, Admiral Lord Hood is waiting for you in the east docking bay. He has informed me that he wishes to meet with you alone, and as soon as possible.”

“Admiral Hood?” Keyes said in surprise. “When did he come aboard? I wanted to be informed of any developments, damnit.”

“My apologies ma’am,” the XO replied. “But we just received word of his arrival only moments ago. It seems with the communications disruption he was unable to send us word ahead of time.”

“Ah, I see,” Keyes said. “Please tell the Admiral that I will be with him in a moment.” She turned to Johnson, who was still seated staring down at the ground. Struggling to find some way to console the Marine, Keyes sighed and walked out of the room.

-----------------------------------

“Ah, Captain Keyes, a pleasure to see you again,” Fleet Admiral Terrence Hood exclaimed as Keyes walked down the ramp leading into the docking bay. Admiral Hood was standing before the Pelican he had arrived in with his hands folded behind his back.

  • 07.18.2005 10:21 PM PDT
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“Likewise sir,” Miranda responded. “Would you like to go somewhere more accommodating sir?”

Admiral Hood laughed and shook his head.

“No, no this conversation shouldn’t take too long,” he smiled sadly. “I’m afraid my coming here is going to have to remain a bit of a secret for now Captain Keyes, the only other person outside of this ship that knows about what I’m going to discuss is General Strauss.”

“Sir?” Keyes asked, confused.

“While I’m sure the actions of our Marines on the ground have been courageous, the truth of the matter is that the Flood have been spreading faster than we could ever have predicted. Africa has been overrun, and the concentration around New Mombasa is staggering. Over seven million Marine infantrymen have been deployed planet-side, but after only several hours, the Flood are already outnumbering us,” Admiral Hood explained, his voice grave.

“How could that be possible sir? The Flood arrived in seven Covenant capital ships, while they certainly could have stuffed a large number into them, there’s no way they could possibly reproduce so quickly,” Keyes protested.

“That is what the council figured as well, but we were wrong. All preliminary damage estimates have been off by almost tenfold. Captain,” Hood said intently, “We are going to lose this battle, and when we do, there won’t be anything left of humanity.”

Keyes stared back at Admiral Hood, speechless.

“Fortunately,” Hood continued, “ONI has several evacuation procedures they’ll be implementing shortly. While the specific areas we will be evacuating too in the latter areas of this battle haven’t been specified as of yet, know that they will take us far from Earth, the Covenant, and all other dangers we’ve been facing lately. Will they follow us? Damned if I know, but we humans haven’t exactly been on a winning streak lately have we?”

“How does this relate to the Lewis Puller, sir?” Keyes asked. A ghost of a smile passed Hood’s face.

“I’m glad you haven’t lost the down-to-Earth attitude Miranda,” Admiral Hood said, then winced at his choice of words. His hands came out from behind his back and handed Keyes a small data disc.

“That disc contains all the coordinates we were given by the Arbiter and everything else we were able to gleam from the Covenant ship before they left,” Hood explained. “With it, you should be able to track down the Master Chief and Cortana.”

“Sir, I can’t just abandon Earth,” Keyes said earnestly. “Please, I want to stay and fight.”

“Officially,” Hood continued, oblivious to Keyes’ plea, “You will be given the mission of tracking down and apprehending the fugitive Ackerson. This information will be given to the rest of ONI in twenty four hours time, should ONI even still exist then. Unofficially you are to link up with the Master Chief and assist him along with the Arbiter in whatever mission they are currently carrying out.”

Keyes began to protest once more but Hood silenced her with a raised hand.

“I know this must be disconcerting for you, but you have a duty to mankind, not just Earth. When the evacuation procedures begin, the Flood will most certainly follow, and I am equally sure that the Covenant will track us down in time as well,” Hood informed her. “Whoever we manage to evacuate from Earth will be a distraction. Hopefully we can lead the Flood and the Covenant on a chase and strand them somewhere, take away a large enough chunk from whatever they’ve got left. If we can manage that then it’ll be all the more easy for the excommunicated Covenant members to eliminate the Covenant and the Flood.”

“Your duty, Captain Keyes,” Hood said intently, “Is to survive. I’m not sure what fate has in store for those of us on Earth, but I am certain long lives is not one of the options. After this is all said and done, you and the crew aboard this ship are going to be all that’s left of humanity.”

Admiral Hood smiled one last time and turned away, walking towards the Pelican. As he entered through the open bay door, he cast one final glance at Keyes before heading into the cockpit.

Miranda watched blankly as the Pelican roared to life and lifted away from the hanger, taxiing down the long corridor that led to the air lock. Once the ship disappeared from view, Keyes became aware of the data chip that rested in her hands.

Abandon Earth, and the rest of humanity? All so mankind can survive on a hope and a prayer that we can manage to defeat the Covenant and the Flood. An enemy we that nearly wiped us off the face of existence, and an enemy not even an advanced race like the Forerunner could defeat.

We’ve lost…


----------------------------------

The Chiroptera-class ship winked into existence, the small Slip Space tear closing itself immediately as the small craft passed through.

Dr. Catherine Halsey sat before the controls of the ship, her hands deftly moving over the controls as she brought the Chiroptera craft into a slow bank. The ship turned and steered itself towards the large Gas Giant positioned near the end of the system, and the research station that orbited around it.

Sighing to herself Dr. Halsey switched the controls over to autopilot and stepped down from the cockpit, moving into the small cargo hold.

“It looks like we made it,” she said, leaning slightly against the door jam.

“So the monitor wasn’t lying when it said we’d need to upgrade before we could continue on,” SPARTAN -087 said, lifting the helmet from her MJOLNIR suit and placing it upon her head. The fastening gears hissed as the suit locked itself together.

“I’m not sure if the monitors are even programmed to be capable of uttering a mistruth,” Dr. Halsey admitted as Kelly got to her feet. Reaching up Dr. Halsey removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to massage away the pressure that had slowly built. The Slip Space transit had been tense, and she wasn’t sure if they would exit and find themselves facing a Covenant armada.

“Since we’ve arrived should we release the monitor from stasis, Doctor?” Kelly asked, bending down and stretching, attempting to work out all the kinks that had developed from the prolonged immobility.

“Yes,” Dr. Halsey nodded. “While I’m certain I can handle any Covenant and human computing system, I have little experience working with whatever the Forerunner used.”

“Let’s hope it’s a little more friendly this time,” Kelly said, and Halsey felt a small smile grow on her face.

“I’m certain we can give it enough incentive to cooperate this time,” she said. “I doubt spending several days incapable of movement was enjoyable, and we can just as easily keep it locked up for even longer.”

Kelly nodded in reply and moved to the far end of the hold. Tapping in a few commands on a small terminal a panel on the wall opened, and revealed the source of their conversation.

The small orb-like monitor hovered, surrounded in a dark green light which contrasted against it’s deep black color. Kelly looked at Halsey for a moment and the Doctor nodded.

“Do it.”

Another series of commands typed into the terminal and the green light dimmed. The monitor shook itself slightly and moved out of the small compartment.

“I cannot even begin to describe how many protocols you have disrupted and ignored,” the monitor said, annoyance thick within it’s tone. “Simply by removing me from my station is in violation of…”

“Please,” Dr. Halsey said, interrupting the monitor’s tirade. “We can go over that at another time. Right now it looks like we’re going to need your help.”

“And why would I help two ignorant Reclaimers like yourself?” the monitor asked. Dr. Halsey smiled darkly and stepped close to the monitor.

“Because,” Halsey said, “Atoning Deviant, if you assist us now in our endeavor. We will help you with your ‘containment’ problems.”

--------------------------------

Author’s Notes: Hmm, does everyone remember where we last saw Atoning Deviant? If you don’t remember, go check out the last chapter of the Covenant History section.

So now Halsey and Kelly are in the story, which should probably stem the demands of everyone. What exactly are they doing however? And why would Halsey be willing to help the monitor when it so obviously is concerned with simply activating the Halo’s?

For those wondering how any Forerunner could still possibly be alive, play the games and read the books and some of the interviews with Bungie. There are subtle hints, very very very subtle, but they’re there, right beneath your nose.

I’ll try and get to work on Chapter 20 as soon as possible. Hopefully we won’t have another month-long wait on our hands…


  • 07.18.2005 10:21 PM PDT
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I'll send the PM's in the morning, right now I'll catch up on my sleep. Hope everyone enjoys the chapter!

  • 07.18.2005 10:25 PM PDT
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Its good to see Dr. Halsey and Kelly. Interesting development with Truth and the Forerunner.

Could Dr. Halsey secretly be a traitor? What are they doing at a Forerunner research station.

Per your usual Mr. Clark, you've given us more questions than answers.

  • 07.18.2005 11:23 PM PDT